Tag: Reads

  • Twilight

    When I was a girl dreaming about what my first (and only) boyfriend would be like, I imagined him larger than life. He was good looking, intelligent, witty and hopelessly and completely in love with me. I’d be endlessly fascinated by him and long to be with him when I wasn’t. Not because I didn’t have a life or outside interests, but because of something inexplicably more.

    This boy I loved was dangerous and unpredictable–someone of mystery. He wasn’t evil, just slightly…tormented by the fact that he and I shouldn’t be together. The reasons why we shouldn’t be together varied: he was an alien from another planet; he was a ghost; he was an assassin sent to kill me; he had a crippled leg and didn’t believe he was lovable; his mother killed my older brother in a drunk driving accident and our families were enemies; he was actually from the year 3005; he had cancer and was going to die.

    Whatever it was I made up to keep us apart, it was never enough to trump the all-consuming, powerful attraction and passion we felt for each other. (Yes, I know how corny that reads.) I had a lot of fun putting us through hell so the eventual capitulation would be all the more sweet, because that’s the key for me. In my fantasies, there had to be an element of hellish danger. I wanted it all. Excitement. Attraction. Mystery. Obsession. And one big gallomping roadblock. Reality didn’t make the cut. Who cared about realism? I faced reality just getting out of bed.

    Why am I sharing this?

    Because a book written by Stephanie Meyer has resurrected those feelings. The book is called Twilight and is about a teen-aged girl, Bella, who falls in love with a vampire, Edward. The story is told in first person narrative, which isn’t my favorite point of view, but after the first page or so, I didn’t notice.

    As I walked down the aisle to introduce myself to the teacher and get my slip signed, I was watching him surreptitiously. Just as I passed, he suddenly went rigid in his seat. He stared at me, meeting my eyes with the strangest expression on his face–it was hostile, furious.

    Through Bella’s narrative, I feel how emotionally torn Edward is for feeling the way he does about her. He is attracted to her smell–to her blood–and to her personally, and finds the two desires impossible to reconcile.

    Their romance, their ill-advised attraction that grows into love, is the driving force of Twilight, New Moon and Eclipse. Sure, she’s seventeen and he’s 104 years old (but will be seventeen forever), and although they’re both aware they can’t stay together, they can’t not be together. Edward’s entire being shrinks from the thought of taking away Bella’s mortality, but she can’t envision her life without losing it. And thus begins the push-and-pull of a romance that for me is the ultimate escapism.

    Danger-fueled obsession. I eat it up and crave thirds.

    This isn’t Buffy the Vampire Slayer. This isn’t Angel, The Black Dagger Brotherhood or Anita Blake. This is Twilight, a different kind of vampire-human romance story that comes with a conscience and sweet, gentle passion, the kind that squeezes my heart and isn’t letting go. Bella and Edward’s slow-burning love, the danger and torment it creates from all angles, is one of the most compelling stories I’ve read.

    I love Meyer’s fast-paced writing, her thorough characterizations, and her well-thought out plots. I love her imagination. This is exactly the fantastical stuff my dreams were, and are again, made of.

    How popular is this series? The movie comes out in December, and there are rumors that there is a second movie coming.

    The last story, Breaking Dawn, comes out August 2. Guess what I’ll be doing that day?

    And! Stephanie Meyer is writing a companion book to Twilight told from Edward’s point of view. It will be called Midnight Sun.

    Her scent hit me like a wrecking ball, like a battering ram. There was no image violent enough to encapsulate the force of what happened to me in that moment.

    In that instant, I was nothing close to the human I’d once been; no trace of the shreds of humanity I’d managed to cloak myself in remained. I was a predator. She was my prey. There was nothing else in the world but that truth.


    Remember Bella’s thoughts about his hostile, violent stare? This is what Edward was thinking at the time. He came thisclose to killing her. Stephanie Meyer knows how to deliver what I, her reader, wants to know.

    It’s been a long time since I’ve felt this strongly about a series. Thank you, Stephanie Meyer. Your beautiful characters rock.

  • Second Sight, by Debbie Mumford

    I missed my scheduled post this week due to finals overload, but, better late than never, right? I am proud to say that this amazing Wild Child/Freya’s bower rising star is my mentor through Romance Divas and has imparted plenty of valuable wisdom since we’ve been working together. But that has absolutely no bearing on this review. *grin*

    This story was a quick read. I started it once, but got peeled away from it and didn’t come back until recently. The beginning pulled me right in with an intriguing ‘occult’ type murder and a psychic investigator Angie’s peculiar reaction to it, which befuddles her fiance and (sensitive but not psychic) partner, Zach Douglass. The mystery compounds when the psychic, Angie, dies suddenly – but not before handing over a book and a message to Zach. She tells him to find Jenny Murdoch, who turns out to be a translator. Zach takes the book Angie left him to Jenny, hoping she can help him unravel the mystery.

    When they meet, there’s an indescribable attraction between Jenny and Zach. Her inner psychic ability takes the form of a tiger in her mind, and for the first time in her young, troubled life, the big cat is calm and content – thanks to Zach’s presence. Zach feels an uncanny draw to Jenny as well, and his fiances voice echoes in his mind, urging him to find out more about the mysterious translator who so carefully suppresses her obvious psychic talent.

    I don’t want to ruin any more, so I’ll stop my summary there. I was drawn in first by the mystery, but didn’t mind when it took backdrop status as the developing and conflicting feelings between Jenny and Zach took center-stage. Ms. Mumford did an exquisite job taking a very risky situation (having a man who’d just lost a fiance fall in love with someone else weeks later) and making it convincing. I was definitely rooting for the couple, and the love scenes were tender and heartfelt. The characters and their reactions felt very real, the pacing very comfortable, and the writing clear and vivid. Overall, a very enjoyable read.

    You can get this book through Freya’s Bower, or browse Debbie’s other works on her website.

  • Flash Friday the Fifth

    Every Friday, we will post links to a collection of flash pieces written by our contributing Authors and guests. They may be related to the same prompt, they may be randomly assembled, they will always be enjoyable.

    This week, we have a collection of submissions to the FFC April 2008 Edition. This month’s theme is THE ELEMENTS: Earth, Water, Fire, Air.

    Eaton Bennett
    The Element of Fire: Hugo, an Officer in the King’s army, has serious doubts with his chosen career as a soldier. Life changing decisions are very difficult to make, but when Hugo sees what has to be done his courage does not fail him….

    Andi King
    Muse: For the Flash Fiction Carnival, a 693 word story using the elements: earth, air, water, fire (spirit).

    A. Catherine Noon
    Elementary: One for each of the elements: Air, Fire, Water, Earth, and Spirit.

    Kathleen Oxley
    Reacquaintance: A witch renews her connection with each of the elements.

    Liz
    The Power of the Eclipse
    A priestess banished from her temple finds a new source of power.

  • The Planter Box

    The Planter Box by Evilynne

    For the Flash Fiction Carnival April Topic-Elements

    Angie stood over her kitchen table and dug into the fragrant, cool potting soil that filled her gaily painted planter box. It was soothing, dark and full of fertile promise. Beside the box stood a small flat of assorted plants, waiting to be transplanted into their new home. The marigolds, petunias and bachelor buttons were just small green sprouts right now but would soon burst into bright and cheerful colors.

    She had bought the flowers to brighten up her spartan accommodations. After all, it was still an apartment, not yet a home. The place was small, with bare walls and the floor was still cluttered with half filled boxes holding odds and ends of her old life. It looked unsettled and lonely, like she was.

    Lonely- even thinking about the word affected her. Unbidden, tears began to form and fell in heavy drops onto the dirt below her. Damn it! She had promised herself that she was done crying over her divorce, but it was a promise she couldn’t seem to keep.

    Angry at herself, she pulled off her gardening gloves and sat down. Reaching for a towel she held it to her face and began to cry in earnest. Her shoulders shook with the force of her emotions as she set her elbows on the table and sobbed inconsolably as she gave in to her grief.

    Leaving Sean had been the right thing to do, but that didn’t make doing it any easier. Finding him in their bed with her friend, Terri, had been the last straw and had left her consumed with anger. She had wrapped herself in that emotion and worn it like a suit of armor, protecting herself from the pain that resulted from ripping him completely and utterly out of her life.

    When the divorce was final she had removed that outer layer of shielding and was overwhelmed by the emotions she had kept tightly under wraps: betrayal, bitterness and rejection. They had all been difficult to deal with in their own way. They had torn through her psyche like a storm, leaving a tattered and frayed soul in their wake. All that had been left was an oppressive sadness that left her empty, vacant and hollowed out inside.

    Despite her inner turmoil, Angie was struggling to rebuild her life. The planter box was a personal symbol of her fresh start. It was meant to show hope and a belief that things would get better. And yet here she was, crying, again, when she should be focusing on the promises of the future, not the pains of the past. She needed to act, to do something that would make her feel more in control of her own destiny. She took a deep breath and forced herself to get back to work.

    Putting on the gloves again purposefully, she stood and reached for one of the delicate seedlings on the table and shook it free from its plastic container. Through her tear filled eyes the tiny green plant in her palm looked as fragile as she felt. With her free hand she made a space in the welcoming soil and placed her tender charge gently inside before covering its roots and tamping the soil down around them carefully. Teardrops fell onto its leaves, making them glisten in the early morning sun.

    One by one she tucked each plant into its new home and watered them with her sorrows. Soon the container held a fledgling forest of new life that promised to bloom once its roots became more secure. In a few weeks there would be gorgeous hues of yellow, pink, and purple blossoms to contrast with the deep greens of the leaves and brown of the soil.
    All they needed was some time before they would be able to stand tall and show off their inner strength and beauty.

    She hoped the same could be said of her.

  • Frosting on the Cake


    Frosting on the Cake by Evilynne

    “It’s bad luck to see the bride in her wedding dress, Jack!” Annie insisted from her side of the door to her apartment.

    “Then go take it off, I won’t mind,” he said in his most intimate voice. He heard the lock turn and Annie’s running footsteps as she retreated to the bedroom before he could catch a glimpse of her in her gown.

    Entering slowly to give his flustered fiancé a chance to change, he wandered past the kitchen and glanced inside. Their wedding cake stood on her large butcher-block table, pristine and white. Cake decorating tools lay scattered across the table, including a full tube of frosting. Annie worked in a bakery and had just finished making their wedding cake herself. She had done a damn fine job if he was any judge of cakes. Picking up the tube of frosting, Jack squeezed a small amount onto his finger and licked it off absently.

    An interesting thought came to mind; this frosting would be good for decorating more than just cake. Carrying the tube of frosting with him, he headed toward Annie’s bedroom and pushed the door open just in time to see her slam the closet shut.

    “There, now you can come in,” she huffed.

    Jack noted that in her haste to conceal the gown, Annie hadn’t yet removed her bra and a half petticoat made from crinoline designed to make the skirt full. Without the gown covering it, Jack thought his blushing bride looked like a meringue – fluffy, sweet, and quite edible. He crossed the room and reached behind her to expertly unclasp the bra with his free hand.

    “Show me how this thing works, Annie,” he said, holding out the tube of frosting but focusing his attention on her bare chest.

    “What?”

    “How do I make those little peaks of frosting, like you did all over the cake,” he repeated. “Like this?” he began, and squeezed out a small dollop of creamy goodness onto Annie’s breast, then another and another. After he had formed a neat row he leaned forward and licked it off suggestively, his eyes meeting hers with intensity.

    “Jack, you’ll make yourself sick if you eat all of that frosting, and you’re getting it all over my petticoat!” she giggled.

    “Let me worry about my sweet tooth,” Jack reassured her. “And I’ll take the petticoat to the dry cleaner’s, don’t sweat it.” He proceeded to spread more frosting across Annie’s soft skin and anticipated his tasty treat.

    *********************

    Later that day, Jack handed the garment bag across the counter to the clerk at the dry cleaning store. “There are a set of silk sheets here that I’ll pick up in a week or so, but the petticoat I’ll need for tomorrow morning. We’re getting married at noon, is that going to be a problem?”

    Opening the bag, the clerk answered, “No problem, Sir, we’ll have that ready for you.” Inspecting the material, the woman asked, “May I ask what kind of stain this is?”

    “Cake frosting,” Jack replied. “My fiancé decorated our wedding cake herself.”

    “But how did she get frosting all over the petticoat and sheets?”

    “A gentleman never kisses and tells.”

  • Flash Friday the Third

    Every Friday, we will post links to a collection of flash pieces written by our contributing Authors and guests. They may be related to the same prompt, they may be randomly assembled, they will always be enjoyable.

    This week, we give you a hodgepodge of stories:

    Kathleen
    Sleeping Over: A short, romantic piece about a young couple’s evening together. Enjoy!

    A. Catherine Noon
    Green: An entry for the March Flash-A-Day competition, the prompt is “Green.” That’s all, just green. Come see what to make of it when a thief and the police clash over green.

    Gwen
    Colors: A picture-inspired sci-fi piece.

    Dawn
    King Cassioux: A short flash piece from the mans POV.

  • Flash Friday the Second

    Every Friday, we will post links to a collection of flash pieces written by our contributing authors and guests. They may be related to the same prompt, they may be randomly assembled, they will always be enjoyable.

    This week, we have a collection of stories written in response to this picture prompt:


    Kathleen – WTF!
    Eden – Frost and Ferrets
    Evilynne – Stowaway
    Gwen – Ferreted Away
    A. Catherine Noon – Untitled

    We also have the following stories written in response to other topics/prompts:

    Andi – Elusive

  • Stowaway, by Evilynne

    MaryAnn set her purse down on the kitchen table and shoved the peanut butter sandwich and a bag of Cheetos into it. Her lunch wasn’t nutrition friendly, but it was all MaryAnn was going to get tonight; she was running late and couldn’t afford to be late for work again. She hurried into the bathroom and started putting on her makeup.

    A petite blond pixie came to the doorway. “Mommy, can I hold Whitey? Please! I’ll be real soft with her, promise!”

    “All right Holly, just be sure to lock the cage tight when you’re done. Remember what happened when Fluffy played with our last ferret?”

    “Yes, Fluffy is a mean kitty!” the girl pouted, then turned and left the room.

    MaryAnn brushed out her hair then gathered her purse and book before heading out of the house. She placed her bag down on the passenger seat of the car and had just fastened her seatbelt when Holly came running outside crying.

    “Mom! Whitey’s gone! She’s gone! Fluffy is going to get her and kill her!”

    Damn, MaryAnn thought. She couldn’t face finding another dead pet and burying it in the backyard. She gave a long suffering sigh and got out of the car. “We’ll find Whitey, sweetie. Go get your big brother, Max and we’ll all look for her.”

    And look they did, behind every table, chair and couch, in the dirty laundry and under the beds. They opened cupboards and checked closets; MaryAnn even tried the washing machine and dryer out of desperation. No ferret.

    “Max, I’ve got to go to work,” MaryAnn said checking her watch and frowning. “Lock Fluffy in the bathroom so we know the ferret’s safe and keep looking. She’s got to be here somewhere. I’ll call you from work and check on you, okay?”

    “All right, Mom,” her teenager said. “We’re on it.”

    “Thanks, Hon, I knew I could count on you.” She kissed him quickly before he could duck away; she knew he was too cool for mother’s kisses.

    MaryAnn rushed back to the car and fastened her seat belt. Startled by an unexpected rustling sound next to her, she stared over at the passenger seat and realized that her purse was moving. Cautiously, she reached over and peered inside. What she found made her laugh out loud. Whitey’s small white head popped up and looked around curiously, blinking her eyes against the sunlight after being buried in the darkness of the bag. Her long whiskers were coated with Cheeto crumbs and she held one of the orange treats greedily in her paws.

    MaryAnn reached into her pocket slowly and grabbed her cell phone, careful not to disturb her ‘stowaway’. After taking a few pictures of the Cheeto thief, she dialed her home number and heard Holly pick up. “Baby, it’s Mom. Come out to the car and see who I found,” she laughed.

  • Flash Friday the First

    Every Friday, we will post links to a collection of flash pieces written by our contributing Authors. They may be related to the same prompt, they may be randomly assembled, they will always be enjoyable.

    This week, we have a collection of submissions to the FFC Spring 2008 Edition. There were several options available on the theme: Vernal (Spring) Equinox, Spring Break, St. Patrick’s Day, Easter

    Eaton
    Redemption

    Liz
    The First Sign of Spring: After winter’s bitter gloom has leached the hope out of the land, everyone is desperate for the first sign of spring’s promise.

    Gwen
    Illumination: Astrid performs a ritual to look into the future and finds an answer she did not expect. (Equinox)

    A.Catherine
    Spring: Winter stayed late the year Tia Maria died, as though the mountains themselves mourned her passing, and the wind and sky also. They say she died without an heir and that the People will suffer, but I don’t believe them. I know better. Little Ana was born that frozen night when Tia Maria breathed her last. She came into this world as the old woman left it. My daughter Ana had an easy birth, I’m told by the other women, but I have nothing to compare it to. Ana was my first birth, and she was stillborn.

    Kathleen
    Easter Eve: A mother reflects as she prepares for Easter morning.